The sun shines through my partially opened curtains. It’s Saturday. I could sleep in but I don’t. I’m a morning person, and always have been. I enjoy watching the first rays of sun peek over the ridge of pine trees, and listening to the chickadees and robins sing their happy songs. Of all the mornings, I enjoy Saturday the most.

Half an hour later my dad strides down the stairs and heads for the kitchen. Pots and pans clang together as he starts breakfast. Frying sausages and browning pancakes can be smelled throughout the house. The sweet smell of maple syrup is almost overpowering as it warms on the stove. I help Dad set the table as my brother and sister come downstairs.

My mom appears later and cuts the grapefruit and oranges. Laughter coats the house as we talk of times long past and memories we’ve made. As we talk we drift toward the dining room where plates of golden brown pancakes and steaming sausages fill the table.

We say grace and then pour the grape juice (my dad’s favorite). While we eat, we talk about the day to come, chores to be done, and the places we need to be. It is when we sit around the table talking that I feel closest to the people I love. It is because of them that I am who I am today.